


The WASP Years - the beginning

by thunderbird_dragon



Series: The WASP Years [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: M/M, the WASP years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderbird_dragon/pseuds/thunderbird_dragon
Summary: Gordon Tracy wants to go to WASP training, but he's too young and he's not in his father's good books.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This the first in a long series of separate fanfics written in 2015/16 to try to settle my own imaginations need to fit all of the younger Gordon Tracy's adventures in before he joined International Rescue.  
> I'll try to work out how to put them into a collection or something, as they aren't actual chapters of the same story but are all connected.  
> It seems that the new Thunderbirds are go! 2015, may have made the boys so much younger that all this is void, but it still works for the original series (and TAG2015 if you're happy to stretch the ages a little). I was working on Gordon being 21 when he joined International Rescue, so to jam it all in, I've started with him being 12!  
> It's all head cannon.

The twelve year old hugged the doorway, “Dad?”

His father’s reply didn’t surprise him.

“No!  I don’t want to hear it Gordon!  I’ve already told you - get out of my sight!” and the boy slid back to the other side of the doorway, his spine tight to the wall.  Ashamed, hurt and desolate. 

His mother appeared at the kitchen door opposite, her eyes, dark amber like her son’s, appealing with him not to push it – not yet.  Give his dad time to calm down - but she knew who her second youngest was.  Urgently she shook her head, a silent ‘no’, but she couldn’t stop him as he turned back again into the doorway.

“But Dad!  It wasn’t Allie’s fault, just mine!”  He had to say it, and he managed to get it all out before his father burst into movement, crossing the room, fury bristling from him.

“Don’t you think I already know that!” the words, hardened by his barely controlled anger, directed into the boy’s face. Gordon found it hard not to flinch, though he couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.  But he stood there, Jeff had to give him credit for that, plus the boy had also admitted that no blame was Alan’s, surely that too amounted to something?

Jeff took him roughly by the arm and yanked him over to the window where his Grandmother’s new car could be seen, covered in lime-wash, the paint pot still on the gravel driveway beside it. 

Gordon knew what it looked like, he didn’t need the reminder.  

Hell, whatever made him think it was a good idea?

It had been meant for Scott, it was supposed to drop over him when he opened the front gate but then, lime-wash would wash out of Scott, _eventually_ , but the dents from the paint pot wouldn’t be so easy to remove from the new car.  He still wasn’t sure how it had all gone so badly wrong, and the pot had flown through the air and hit the car, paint and all.  The fact that the pot had also hit Scott - heavily - was just an added crime to the list his father had quoted in his original tirade.

An idiot he may be, but Gordon was an honest idiot, he had been the one who had talked Alan into helping.  The smallest Tracy was reluctant and although involved, it was important to Gordon that his father understood that Alan wasn’t to blame. 

“Get out of my sight, Gordon, get out there and clean every scrap of the paint off that car.  I don’t want to see the slightest bit, either on the gravel, the grass, the gate posts or anywhere else I may choose to add to that list!” Jeff pulled his son in close, “Do you understand!”

“Yes sir,” and as soon as his father’s grip lessened, Gordon shot off out the door. 

Instead of heading straight for the car, he leaped up the stairs, four steps at a time.  “Allie!”  He found his youngest brother under his bed.  “Look Allie, I’m sorry Dad shouted at you too, but I’ve told him it wasn’t your fault and he says he already knows that, so you’re in the clear!”  He wriggled under the bed to get close, “Okay?”

“No, he still shouted at me – and it’s all your fault!” Alan pulled away from Gordon’s reach, “I hate you!”

Yeah, okay, he deserved that too and he knew it.  Scott wasn’t talking to him either, nor was Grandma, but there was no more time for damage limitation, he had a car to clean.

It took hours, Virgil had come to watch, pointing out bits his brother had missed over and over again, knowing his father would be watching, so not daring to offer to help. This wasn’t the first time Gordon had to clean up a mess, previous pranks that had gone wrong AND ones that had gone right!  He was still expected to clean up. 

 

In his study window Jeff watched, arms folded across his chest, nostril flaring with every breath.

“Relax, Jeff,” Lucy stood close behind him and let her hands rest gently on his arms, leaning over his shoulder to watch the boy with the bucket and sponge.

“Relax?” Jeff sighed deeply, “I can’t just let this go, Lucy!  What the hell am I supposed to do with him?  He’s in some kind of trouble every five minutes.”

“Oh Jeff, they’ve all been through this stage, into everything, pushing the boundaries, especially your boundaries!  Remember John at the last house?”  She smiled, visualising the chimney collapse, courtesy of their second eldest.

“I could have killed John for that, we’d just sold the damned house!”

She laughed gently, knowing that he didn’t mean it. He loved every one of his sons.  “Gordon’s just acting out earlier than the others, give him time…” She nudged him playfully - he didn’t respond.

“This is something else, other than just acting out, Luc.  Pranks aren’t part of acting out!”  He looked down at her, “Are they?”

She shrugged, “They’ve each been so different, how are we supposed to know!  All I am really sure of is, that he’s been trying to get your attention all summer long.”

Jeff felt a pang of guilt. He knew that.

She felt that sudden tension in him so risked continuing.  “Something’s bothering him or he wouldn’t be pestering you so hard to be allowed to go to WASP cadets now.  He knows you’ll probably let him at 14.  But I think this is something to do with his school, they tell us that the problems are under control, but…”  They had both been supporters of the new post war state school system, both believing that it gave the boys a good start until they were 14 years old, keeping the boys in touch with reality.  They may be wealthier than they had ever dreamt they would be, but their kids wouldn’t be spoilt brats.  State school was a good solid grounding.

Or it had been, Gordon’s year seemed to be an odd mix, there were elements of something sinister about the older half of the year, almost gang like.  Lucy had tried to find out more, Virgil and Alan seemed oblivious to it all then when she asked Gordon, he had clammed up and that worried her more.  His closest friends were all smart kids like him, which never helped, but he was the only truly rich one, he seemed to be a target.  That, added to the fact that he was small for his age, caused her to worry more.

Jeff huffed.  “Well, he can pester all he wants, he’s not changing schools and that’s final.

Except, of course, with Lucy, nothing was ever final.

 

Supper was late that night, Lucy called them in from various directions, with Scott being the first to arrive at the table, towing Alan behind him.

“Found this sulking under his bed!” he grinned at his Mom and lead Alan to a seat, “It’s okay Allie, sit there next to me, Dad will have calmed down by now.  He always does.”

“Oh Alan, Dad’s okay now, love, I promise.” Lucy put a firm hand on little Alan’s shoulder, “Your Dad’s already told me that he knows it wasn’t you and…” She raised an eyebrow at him, “Gordon risked life and limb for you to tell your dad that too.”

Alan shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t care!”

“Yes, you do!”  Lucy put his meal in front of him, “Gordon’s your best friend as well as your brother, and you know it.”

Jeff’s appearance in the room made Alan squirm a little.  “Alan, go fetch your brother, please.”  It was a gentle request but the boy still disappeared quickly.

Their father met them both in the hall as they came in, “Have you finished?” he asked Gordon as he waved Alan back to the kitchen.

“Yes sir.”

“Ready for supper?”

The boy nodded. 

“Well forget it! Go to your room and stay there, I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you until tomorrow!”

Gordon wrinkled up his nose about to protest, but thought better of it.  Being sent to bed with no supper was about as bad a punishment as their father ever gave, nothing worse.  No-one ever actually went hungry, someone would always sneak food upstairs sooner or later.  So he accepted the punishment. 

Surprisingly, it was Scott who slip in through the doorway, no more than half an hour later, a heavily disguise supper hidden under his text books. “Here you go, Brat-Features.” 

Gordon eyed him suspiciously, was the food covered in tons of pepper, or worse, washing up liquid.  But as Scott offered the plate to him, he could see it hadn't been tampered with.

“I thought you’d want to get me back!”  Gordon took the plate thankfully.

Scott rubbed the raised bruise on his head, it was still sore.  “Yeah, well you’re a monumental pain in the butt, but at least you got Allie off the hook.” He leaned over to ruffle the fair hair of his second youngest brother.  “Having said that, you shouldn’t have involved him in the first place!” and the hand ruffling turned quickly, to cuff the boy’s ear. 

Scott settled on the edge of the bed while Gordon ate quickly, “So, only three weeks before the start of the fall semester.  I guess you’ve not got you way then?”

Gordon shook his head, “I really thought he’d be so mad at me for covering you with lime-wash, that he’d explode and demand that I go to a military school.  I was hoping Mom would then persuade him that the new WASP cadet school was best.”

“Very risky, he could just as easily have decided to send you to the one of those ‘troublesome teens’ places!  Where would that have got you?” Scott raised an eyebrow at him.  “You know you’re just too young Gordon, you’ll just have to be patient.”  But he could see his little brother’s mind ticking over that thought.  “You know, you could just try asking him.”  Scott offered.

Gordon shook his head, “Nope, tried that, several times.  He says I’ve just got to man up and stay at my school.”

Scott frowned, the rumour of troubles in Gordon's class had even reached him in England, via John, so he asked, “Is it right that they hospitalised a kid last semester?”   Gordon shrugged, if he knew anything, he wasn’t saying, even at twelve, he knew when to keep quiet.

The door that had been left ajar was opening.  Jeff stood there, eyeing the empty plate and scowling at Scott, who merely picked it up and left, with only the briefest of apologies for going against his father’s wishes.  But then, Jeff knew someone would.

Once they were on their own, Jeff sat on the edge of his son’s bed.  And sighed.  “Sometimes, I just don’t know what to do with you.  Your smart enough, yet you cause me and your mom more troubles than all of your other brothers put together!”  He rubbed his face with both of his hands. “Your mom says I should have a word with you tonight!  I’m not so sure I shouldn’t just let you stew a while, but your Mom has spoken!  So, what have you got to say for yourself?”

Gordon bit his lip, which should he go for, apologetic son who would do anything to get his father’s affection back, or annoying son who would be better off out of the way in WASP school?  Could he master a wonderful mix of both?  He was staring at the carpet for inspiration.

“Dad, I’m sorry, it was supposed to be funny, everyone should have laughed, Scott would have looked silly…”

“Scott was hurt, Gordon!”

He knew that. 

Jeff took a moment for a long sigh.  “Son, your mom is worried about your school.  You’ve not said anything yourself, but she’s sure you’re not doing so well there lately.  So, I want you to tell me, how a change of school would benefit you.”

Gordon gasped, “What?  Really?”

“Now, _don’t you dare_ think I’m rewarding your misbehaviour – if – _and I repeat, if_ \- I let you change schools, you will have to work your butt off for the rest of this summer to show me that you’re worthy of any change I might make.  Do you understand me?”

He nodded, too stunned to speak.

Then suddenly galvanised into action, Gordon dived under his bed for the paperwork he’d been collecting for months, some glossy brochures on the new WASP High Schools, but also printed copies of training schedules, curriculum for the first years, full prospectus for the later ones, programmes to cover every aspect.  In fact everything he thought would be useful.  He held it all out to his father and waited for him to look through it.

“Okay,” Jeff saw that he’d been working quietly on this for some time.  “So I know this has been a dream of yours for a few years now, tell me why?”

“Umm, well, if I could get into the new school, a place in the academy is virtually guaranteed earlier, that way I can make officer rank by 16 instead of the usual 18, and be at sea half the year after that until my studies are completed.”  It truly had been his dream, probably from the time he was 7 years old, and his Grandpa had taken them all to watch a review of the fleet after the war.  They had been invited by an old friend of Grandpa’s to board one of the heroic Stingray class submersibles and Gordon had been smitten, totally in his element, mesmerised.  It had been hard to tear him away.

Jeff and Lucy may have wanted all their sons to be astronauts like them, but this son was determined to be an aquanaut instead.  And he’d obviously gone to great lengths to research the possibilities, he had every scrap of information Jeff could ever need.

Jeff’s eyes were drawn to an obvious problem on the very first page. “This says you have to be 14, son, you’re too young.”  Jeff couldn’t believe his son would have missed that point, so waited patiently.

“Ah yes, but see here.”  Gordon flicked through the pile and pulled out two turquoise blue sheet stapled together, he ran his finger down to find the paragraph he needed, “Students already rated AAA3 or above, may be considered earlier than 14 depending on their current grades.”  He quoted and then handed the sheets to his father.  All the Tracy boys were rated AAA3 except for John, who was some mystical AAA8+.

Jeff scanned over the whole document, it seemed feasible that Gordon may well qualify for early entry.

“See, I’d start at San Francisco,” Gordon pulled out one of the glossy brochures for his father next. “The school there is right next to the WASP West Coast Academy, it shares the same campus.  So it also shares the latest research facilities for marine life studies, there’s nowhere better Dad, look!”  It seemed that his eventual aim would be to match Scott’s and John’s educations but through the systems incorporated at WASP Academy.  Sure enough, the information needed was right there for Jeff to read.  “And I could go on to study here!”  More information, more brochures  

“Where did you get all this stuff, Gordon?”

The lip biting became intense again – “Um, well, I kinda… sorta…!”

Jeff sighed even deeper, “You talked John into enrolling you, didn’t you!”  He was going to have to talk to his genius second son.  It was a dangerous mixture to have one son who could access anything on the planet, with enough maturity to pull off a trick like this, and another son who could think up the tricks in the first place.  He ran his fingers through his hair in despair. “Aggggh!”

Gordon bit right through the lip as he offered lamely, “Well, actually Dad…  you did!  You see it’s not that easy to get in, and with my age and all – John organised for your Company to sponsor me and Uncle Lee did the recommendations.”

“Lee!  I’ll kill him!”  Jeff stood, half the papers falling to the floor.  “I’ve had enough of this!  Tell me one thing, will your education suffer from a move to this new WASP school?” Jeff asked, exasperated.

“It’s one of the finest educations out there, Dad.”  Gordon spoke carefully, he knew his dreams were suddenly right there, hanging in the balance, so close that he could almost taste the midrats.  He mustn’t put a foot wrong now.  

“What about your swim training? Do you still have aspirations for the Olympics or has this dream superseded that?”

The boy had the answer to everything.  “They have a programme to encourage and support young athletes, with the Olympics as the ultimate goal.”  He wanted to add that John had already checked that he would be eligible, but he really didn’t want to push it right then.

Jeff huffed and sat again heavily, he should have expected that – oh, this kid was good - he looked down at the paper work. The school looked phenomenal and he really could see no reason why he shouldn’t allow the boy to go.  After all, the others had all gone away to schools at 14, why not Gordon at 12, if only to get him out of Jeff’s hair.  Lucy had already agreed that it would do him good.

He eyed his son fiercely, “I will do you a deal.”  He took his time.  “I will _consider_ this,” and he waved the brochures left in his broad hand, “but, as I said earlier, you are going to have to prove to me that you are worthy of it.”  The boy stood listening intently.  Right then he would have done almost anything to get what he wanted.  So his father tested him. “You want a swimming pool on the island, yes?”

Gordon’s eyes widened, “Yes,” he answered cautiously.

For a few years now, they had been spending the last three weeks of the summer break on an island in the Pacific.  The Tracys had bought it with the aim of making it their permanent home, sometime in the future. A pool was on their wish list.

“Okay, so you start digging the damned pool and I’ll start reading the damned literature here!”

 

 

Just two days later, they were on their summer island, Scott had forgiven Gordon for the bump on the head and Alan was back as his best friend.  He only had to work on Grandma to make a full set of apologies.

The Tracys showed determination in everything they ever set out to do, so it was no surprise to any of them that Gordon set to dig himself a swimming pool on arrival.  It was an impossible task, Herculean, but he stuck to it, day in and day out throughout the first two and a half weeks of the holiday.  And just like a Tracy, he didn’t complain either.

The summer drifted on happily, this was their major holiday together and everyone was enjoying themselves, fishing off the boats (which, sometimes, Gordon took time off to join in with), diving off the reefs (which he also joined in with – occasionally) and evenings spent all together on the beach, with roaring fires in the fire-pit, chatting, telling stories and eating fantastic fresh caught foods, (most of which Gordon slept through, curled up between his brothers, tired out from his labours.)

But he was never more content than when he was pushing the wheelbarrow, loaded with earth, away from his precious swimming pool.

“You do realise, Squid, if you go much deeper, you’ll fall through to the volcanic caves underneath!”  Virgil pointed out on one of those precious evening.  The sun was setting bright scarlet and the air was coolling.  They had all been laughing and chatting over the size of the pool.

Gordon sat close to the fire, yawning and poking at the embers with a stick, “No there’s a fair way to go yet.”  He wasn’t really paying attention, he was already half asleep but happy, as he thought his beloved Olympic sized pool was possibly 3’ deep in places now.

His father was watching him, nodding absently to something Lucy was asking, she nudged him, “Don’t be so mean, Jeff, tell him.”  She spoke quietly, even so Scott looked up and shoved Gordon to wake him.

“Son,” and they all looked his way, he indicated Gordon, “Walk with me!”

Gordon hauled himself upright then onto his feet.  Jeff looked at him, a scrawny scrap of a kid, skinny and only a tiny bit taller than Alan, who was three years younger.  Blond and brown eyed like his mom and was that muscle he was developing there?  Too many wheelbarrow loads.

Away from the others, down on the water’s edge, Jeff started with, “How do you think the pool is going?  Will you have time to go fishing with us tomorrow?”  He had allowed the boy to set his own schedule for the digging and hadn’t been that surprised that Gordon had worked so hard, missing out on some of the fun.  Jeff was also pleased that he hadn’t asked for help though occasionally his brothers had joined in, but they understood that it was his task and why.

“I dunno Dad, its going okay,” He looked up at his father and grinned, “but I’d like to get it finished before we leave.”

“You do know that _is impossible_ , don’t you, Gordon?”

The boy laughed, of course he did. 

No matter how determined he might be, one boy, a shovel and a wheelbarrow couldn’t dig an Olympic sized pool in the last three weeks of summer vacation.

Jeff eyed him hard before saying, “Yeah, well, I guess you’ve done enough, we’ll get digger in from the mainland for the rest.  We want you on the fishing trip tomorrow!”  He clapped a fatherly hand on the boys shoulder and was pleasantly surprised that Gordon felt so much stronger.  He let it ride for a moment or two, then added, “Your Mom and I have also decided that you can go to the WASP School for the new semester.”  It was said as a simple statement, but the effect was amazing.

His son turned to him, face illuminated in the widest smile Jeff had ever seen, then the hooting began, deafeningly loud, as Gordon raced up the beach to tell his brothers.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I worried about the use of the word 'limewash', does it translate? Does Distemper, Whitewash or Whitening Paint make better sense to you the reader, hope so.


End file.
